


The Best- and Worst-Kept Secrets in the 'Fleet

by circ_bamboo



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>79. In the year 2259, the Federation colony on Cerberus experiences a massive crop failure, which puts the population in danger of starving to death. Ten-year-old Joanna McCoy is living with relatives and attending school on Cerberus that year.<br/>When the crew of the Enterprise (on the first year of its mission) learns of this, McCoy is obviously sick with worry, but Captain Kirk is absolutely horrified, having flashbacks to a remarkably similar incident in his own childhood - remote colony, starving population, leading to a mass execution.<br/>The Federation is sending help, but fuck that shit. Kirk, irrational nightmares in his head of another Kodos rising up, orders the Enterprise to deviate from its mission, load up on supplies from whatever planet they happen to pass and get to Cerberus on the double, because he refuses to let anything happen to Bones' daughter or anybody else. McCoy is relieved they're doing something but wondering why Kirk seems to be such a nervous wreck, and eventually Kirk reveals the whole story to him.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best- and Worst-Kept Secrets in the 'Fleet

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from [](http://community.livejournal.com/tarsus_iv_fic/profile)[**tarsus_iv_fic**](http://community.livejournal.com/tarsus_iv_fic/).
> 
> WARNING: Depictions of PTSD and related issues. See Summary.

Things were just starting to get interesting when one of their personal comms beeped. Jim dove out from under the covers, grabbed his comm, and opened it before he realized that the red light wasn't blinking. "Bones, this time it's you."

McCoy groaned, pulled his boxer-briefs back into place, and rolled over to grab his own comm. "McCoy here," he said.

"Dr. McCoy, priority transmission to you from Starfleet," Uhura said.

"Damnit, give me two minutes and put it through to the captain's quarters."

"Aye, Doctor."

McCoy wished fleetingly that they'd been in his room this time, but Jim had a bigger bed. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and retrieved the discarded portions of his uniform. After pulling on his pants and undershirt, he shook his head as he held up his tunic. "That's not going to pass inspection."

"There's a spare in the second drawer," Jim said. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Nah," he said, grabbing the blue tunic out of the drawer and pulling it over his head. "But you might either put on some clothes or stay silent on the other side of the room." He finger-combed his hair into something approximating order.

"How about both," Jim said, pulling his undershirt over his head. "Although for all the admiralty knows, we were playing chess in here."

"Is that what you're doing when you're playing chess with Spock?" McCoy asked. "If so, I'd like to see you inform Lieutenant Uhura of that fact."

Jim laughed, and the comm whistled. "McCoy here," he said again.

"Dr. McCoy," the admiral at the other end—male, human, and in his fifties or sixties, like most of them—said.

It wasn't Pike, Barnett, or the two others McCoy could recognize on sight, so he just said,

"Admiral. What can I do for you?"

"Your daughter, Joanna McCoy, is on Cerberus, correct?"

"She is," he confirmed. "Living with her aunt and uncle and studying at the academy there."

"Your sister, Donna McCoy Withers, has asked that we contact you and inform you of the situation on Cerberus."

"What's the situation on Cerberus?" McCoy asked.

"A few months ago, they experienced a massive crop failure. Rather than informing the Federation—" the admiral's annoyance shone through "—they attempted to deal with it on their own via rationing and bargaining with nearby planets. Two days ago, they finally contacted the Federation and asked for assistance. I understand from what Ms. Withers said that your family is as well as can be expected, and the Fleet should have aid to the planet in about five or six days."

McCoy bit his tongue in order not to let the stream of curses out. "Thank you for contacting me, sir. If you could keep me apprised of the situation, I'd be grateful."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Commander. Vernoy out."

The comm blinked off, and McCoy let out the heartfelt "Fuck!" that he'd been holding in. He looked up at Jim, who was sitting on the couch, eyes wide and unblinking. "Jim?"

"Joanna's on Cerberus. Oh, my God," he said.

"You knew about the famine?"

"I heard that the _Yorktown_ was dispatched two days ago to pick up some supplies for Cerberus, but I didn't know it was that bad," he said, his voice hollow. "Oh, my God, Bones, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," McCoy said, his voice cracking. He looked up at the ceiling and blinked rapidly, and then stood abruptly. "Well. There's nothing I can do. I'm going to go down and inventory some supplies."

"Yeah," Jim said, and swallowed. "Yeah, Bones, do whatever you need to do."

"Fuck, she's only _ten_ ," he said, and punched the wall. It didn't crack; neither did his knuckles, but it also didn't make him feel any better. He walked over, kissed Jim on the top of the head, and said, "I'll see you later."

Jim only nodded, still with the blank look on his face, but McCoy didn't have enough energy to deal with him right now. He left.

* * *

Nine hours later, McCoy was painfully exhausted—maybe even exhausted enough to sleep. He'd kicked Chapel and Cathcart out of Sickbay and done all of their tasks for the rest of the shift, including patching up a couple of engineers who had plasma burns. If perhaps his bedside manner was a little rougher than usual, no one commented. He headed for his own quarters and then hesitated. It was only a moment, though, before he spun on his heel and headed for Jim's rooms.

Jim was inside, sitting in front of the console, tapping furiously on the screen. "Hey, Bones."

"Hey, Jim. What are you doing?"

"Stuff," Jim answered, and then looked up. "I'm going to the bridge in a few minutes. You can sleep here."

"Thanks," McCoy said, and pitched himself into the bed. He managed to remove his boots and tunic before he fell asleep, and didn't even notice when Jim left the room.

He awoke about five hours later, alone, itchy, and uncomfortable. The first thing he did was check his comm, but there were no messages held for him. The other bonus of being in the captain's quarters was the water shower, and he felt absolutely no guilt at using more than half of Jim's daily water ration.

After he dressed in a set of Jim's clothes and his own tunic, he realized there was, finally, a message waiting for him on the comm. Unfortunately, it was just from Spock, but he flipped open the comm and said, "McCoy to Spock."

"Spock here."

"You asked me to contact you?"

"Yes. May I meet with you briefly?"

"Sure."

"Five minutes. Spock out."

McCoy flipped the comm closed and waited. The hail came at the door exactly five minutes later. "Come," he said, belatedly realizing it was a bit weird to let people into Jim's room.

Spock walked in. "Dr. McCoy. What message did you get last night?"

McCoy's mood darkened. "My daughter is on a planet that's having a severe food shortage. Why?"

"The planet Cerberus, correct?" At McCoy's nod, he continued. "Captain Kirk is acting . . . most peculiarly."

"How so?"

"He has diverted the ship, and absolutely will not discuss his plans."

"Isn't that against regulations?" McCoy asked.

Spock started pacing. "I have been reviewing the regulations, and somehow, Jim has not broken any of them. Yet."

"What's he done?"

"We are approximately three days from Cerberus. Although there are two ships that are closer, as well as the _Yorktown_ being approximately 5.2 days out from earth, he has engineered a course that will let us remain near our assigned section of the Neutral Zone until we are only a day out. He has sent, on the mid-priority channel, a notice to Admiral Pike of a change of course to reply to a distress call. That distress call response—a legitimate distress call sent out from an outpost on Sierra VI, by the way—will lead us through a chain of agricultural planets, all of whom he has already contacted about bargaining for supplies. At the end, we will be within a few hours of Cerberus, and presumably, we will be heading there."

McCoy raised an eyebrow. "Well, now I know what he was doing last night."

"It did occur to me that the captain was running on very little sleep."

McCoy shrugged. "Well, after I got the message, I didn't much feel like sleeping either. So I went to Sickbay and inventoried supplies," he added hastily.

"I am curious as to what has caused Jim's reaction to the situation."

"He likes Joanna," McCoy offered.

"He is also well-known to be close to you yourself, Dr. McCoy."

"Yes, well." McCoy waved a hand. He did not like discussing his relationship with Jim with anyone, especially the Vulcan first officer. "That's probably why."

Spock nodded. "As long as Jim is not breaking any regulations, I see no reason why he cannot undertake this mission."

"Good," he said. "Keep me posted on the progress, if Jim doesn't announce it ship-wide."

"I will. Thank you for your time, Dr. McCoy." Spock left.

McCoy sat down on Jim's couch, and dictated a quick note to Joanna.

 _Dear Jo,_

 _I'm so sorry you're in the middle of this situation. Uncle Jim and the ship and I are on the way._

 _Love,_

 _Dad_

Hopefully it would get there. He sent it using Jim's priority code, feeling absolutely no guilt about that, either.

* * *

Somehow Jim's plan was working. They got to Sierra VI and McCoy sent down some medical supplies; in gratitude, the Sierrans gave them some huge number of kilos of grain. Even Spock wasn't entirely sure how that happened.

From there, Jim steered them to Elanu IV, where they picked up preserved perishables in exchange for some of the grain, and Mizar II, where they just inexplicably gave them a ridiculous amount of preserved protein—some random sort of animal that humans apparently thought tasted like chicken. They stopped by five other planets in short order.

McCoy spent pretty much all of his waking time in Sickbay working; when he finally returned either to his room or Jim's to catch a few hours of rest, Jim was never there. Their schedules must be off, he thought, and didn't consider it any further. Between worrying about Joanna and his sister and brother-in-law and trying to get Sickbay ready for any possible situation on Cerberus, he didn't have much brainpower to think about Jim.

While they were picking up fruit or something from Ogus II, Starfleet finally caught up with them. McCoy was in his office, going over reports, when his comm whistled. "McCoy here."

"Doctor, incoming transmission from Starfleet."

"Put it through."

"McCoy," Admiral Pike said a moment later.

"Admiral Pike," he responded. "What can I help you with?"

"What in hell is Kirk up to?" Pike asked.

McCoy shifted in his chair, remembering Spock's comment about Kirk being just inside the regulations. "Shouldn't you be asking Spock that?"

Pike gave him a _don't-be-stupid_ look. "You're approximately one full day away from your section of the Neutral Zone, and Kirk has blocked or come up with bad excuses not to answer my calls. If you weren't so far out, I'd be tempted to send a ship after you. Tell me what's going on, Lieutenant Commander."

He really hated it when Pike used his rank. "Well, _Admiral_ , I'm fairly certain that Captain Kirk is heading towards Cerberus."

"Cerberus?" Pike asked. "Why—oh." His face blanked. "Your daughter is on Cerberus."

"Yes," McCoy said.

"How old is she now? Eight? Nine?"

"Ten."

"Is Jim close to her?"

"He's met her a few times," he said. "They seem to get along."

Pike gave a short nod, and tapped at a console just out of view. "I've retroactively dated your orders so that the _Enterprise_ is doing exactly what it should. Say hello to Captain One for me."

"Of course, sir." Only not. She scared the bejesus out of him. Maybe Jim would pass the message along.

"Off the record, McCoy, but has Jim gotten any sleep in the last three days?"

McCoy thought for a moment. "I'm not sure he has, sir. I haven't seen much of him." He added, somewhat crankily, "I've been busy."

"Of course." Pike looked remarkably sympathetic. "Well, if you have the time or energy, check up on him. And get some sleep yourself. There are now three ships heading over to help, and with luck, everyone will be fine."

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir."

"Good luck, Dr. McCoy. Pike out." The transmission ended, and McCoy turned back to his reports.

A few minutes later, he looked up, head cocked to one side. Why on earth was Pike so concerned about Jim? Joanna was _his_ daughter. He frowned. He knew Pike liked Jim—who didn't?—but it was still strange. He'd check on Jim in a bit.

* * *

A couple hours later, Spock carried a limp Kirk into Sickbay. McCoy called for Chapel and asked, "What the hell happened to him?"

"I applied a nerve pinch, Dr. McCoy. It appears that the captain has not slept in approximately ninety-two hours." They laid Jim out on a biobed; Chapel went for the tricorder, and McCoy checked his vitals by hand.

"Ninety-two? How the hell did that happen?"

Chapel coughed, and Spock raised an eyebrow. "I believe, Doctor, that you are generally in a better position to answer that question than either of us."

McCoy frowned. "Never mind that," he said, but Chapel interrupted him.

"Doctor, the Captain's hormone levels are significantly deviated from standard." She handed him the tricorder.

McCoy cursed, short and sharp. "Blood test, Chapel, to confirm."

She nodded, took a vial of blood from Jim's arm, and went to run it in the lab.

"How are they deviated?" Spock asked.

"Either he's taken massive amounts of stims, or he's been in the middle of a panic attack for the last seventy-something hours. How much longer is your Vulcan neck-pinch thing going to keep him out?"

"Approximately 1.5 minutes more."

"Damnit. Chapel, do you have the results yet?" McCoy called.

Chapel appeared back by Jim's bed. "Yes, sir. Nothing in his system that isn't from his own brain."

"Fuck," McCoy said.

Jim chose that moment to wake up, jerking before he lunged off the bed and clocked Spock in the jaw. "Don't you ever fucking do that again." Spock, startled, hit the floor, and McCoy grabbed at Jim's arms. Jim jumped about six feet in the air, eyes wide, hands shaking. "Don't you fucking touch me," he said to McCoy. He turned to Spock, who was back on his feet. "If you ever so much as think about nerve-pinching me again when I am on the fucking bridge and in command of this fucking ship, I will have you thrown in the brig and out of Starfleet so fast your hair will singe."

McCoy paused at the fury in Jim's voice, but said, "Jim, you're not in your right mind."

"Bones, shut the fuck up."

McCoy took a step back. He knew Jim was panicking, knew he was pretty damn messed up, but the words still stung. His face hardened. "James Tiberius Kirk, you're in the middle of a panic attack and I can help."

Jim turned to look at him. "It's not a fucking panic attack."

"Your brain chemistry is saying otherwise."

"I am fucking leaving this place," Jim said. "Leave me the fuck alone and stay the fuck away from me. I am twelve hours from doing what needs to be done and fucking saving that planet from—" He stopped abruptly. "Just leave me the fuck alone."

He got about two feet before Nurse Chapel hypoed him in the neck. As he fell to the floor, Spock caught him and McCoy said, "Good job, Chapel. What did you give him?"

"Standard knock-out dose, sir. I figured if you wanted to mess around with his serotonin levels, you could do it yourself."

McCoy barked a laugh. "Correct. Spock, you okay there?" They laid Jim back out on the bed and this time, secured him with restraints.

"I am unharmed. Forgive me, Doctor, but do you have any idea as to what has caused the Captain's situation?"

"I have no blasted clue, Spock, and it's driving me batshit. Look, do you know what Jim's plans were for the rest of this mission?"

"I do."

"Then you can finish it. I'm going to keep him sedated until we get there. It's probably best for all of us."

"Agreed, Dr. McCoy."

"I sure hope Jim agrees," he muttered under his breath. "Look, I'll see if I can figure out what the hell is going on."

Spock nodded once. "I will inform you when we are close to Cerberus."

McCoy's heart leapt—that's right, there was a Joanna at the end of the tunnel. "Thanks," he said, and turned back to Jim's prone form, swallowing hard. He heard Spock leave, and a moment later, felt Chapel's hand on his arm.

"Dr. McCoy, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice gentle.

"'M fine," he said, not turning to face her.

"You should rest. I'll call Dr. M'Benga and Nurse Cathcart."

"Christine," he said. "We're twelve hours away from the planet where my ten-year-old daughter is hopefully surviving a goddamn famine and my—the captain is displaying signs of mental trauma for no known reason. The last thing I need to do is _rest_." He added, "Besides, they're going to need some medical help when we get there."

Chapel moved in front of him, and he looked at her. "Your partner," she corrected.

"It's none of your business," he said, and looked over at Jim. "Get me twenty CCs of propanylol and five CCs of sithrodal, in the non-albumin carrier."

Chapel nodded, and headed to the cabinet.

* * *

Twelve hours passed, slowly, especially with virtually nothing to consider but what might be plaguing Jim. His medical and personal records were no help, and after going through them for the sixth or seventh time, McCoy gave up. Eventually, though, it was 1730 and they were in orbit above Cerberus. McCoy loaded up one more hypo, undid Jim's restraints, and shot him in the neck. It would wake him up slowly and leave him groggy for a few minutes, hopefully.

Jim's eyelids fluttered a few moments later. "Bones?" he said, slurring. "What's goin' on?"

"Jim. Listen to me. You had a panic attack. It went on for three full days. I had to sedate you and fix your hormone levels. This is not going on your permanent record, but you will have to talk to me about it—either as your doctor or your friend, I don't care." McCoy kept his voice level and authoritative without straying into 'asshole' territory. "We're orbiting Cerberus. The transporter room is beaming down the supplies, and the away team is waiting for me—and maybe you—to join them before they go down."

Jim sat up, slowly, wincing. "What's this 'maybe' business? You know I'm going down there." His hands were still shaking, and McCoy frowned. "Don't tell me no, Bones."

"I won't," he said, but ran the tricorder over him. "I gotta give you another hypo or two, though. You haven't eaten solid food in a while."

"Look, Bones, just a few more hours, please, I have to do this." Jim's lips thinned as he looked up at McCoy.

"I know," he said, dialing up a combination of nutrients and calories and a very mild stimulant to get the last of the sedation out of Jim's system. "Here." He pressed the hypospray to Jim's neck, much gentler than usual. "Better?"

Jim blinked a few times. "Yeah, actually." He hopped off the table, and didn't stumble. "Thanks, Bones. Let's get going." He clapped him on the shoulder and headed for the door.

Five minutes later, they stood on the transporter platform, and Jim said, "Beam us down, Scotty."

McCoy felt his stomach drop, as it always did when being transported, and suddenly they were on the surface of a familiar-looking M-class planet. He hadn't been rematerialized for more than a few moments, inside the city center, when he heard, "Daddy!"

A moment later, Joanna ran into his arms, and he picked her up and swung her around. "Jo! How are you doing?" He set her down and held her at arm's length, looking at her.

"I'm okay, Dad. Hungry, but they've been doing pretty good at making sure us kids have enough food." She bounced in place, and threw herself back into his arms.

McCoy felt a little better; she looked a bit thin and pale, but better than he'd expected. "That's good, darlin'. We brought a ton of food for you, and there are two more ships following us," he said, blinking rapidly against the tears that threatened again.

"I know," she said. "Admiral Pike sent me a personal message." She grinned.

"Oho, a personal message from an admiral?" Jim said, coming up behind her. "Hey, Joanna, how's it going?"

"Uncle Jim!" Joanna whirled around and threw herself at him. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome, Jojo." He held onto her for a moment and caught McCoy's eyes over her head. "When I was only a couple years older than you are, I was on a planet that had crop failures and a famine, too. It was terrible, and I didn't want you to have to go through all that crap."

"Really?" Joanna pulled back, her eyes wide. "Yuck. No wonder you came. Can I go up and see the ship?"

"Sure," Jim said. "We'll go up as soon as we're done arranging the transport for all this stuff. Where are your aunt and uncle? We should see them."

"Oh, they're inside." Joanna scampered off, and Jim watched her go, a fond look on his face.

McCoy's eyes were wide, as well. He did some mental math—a couple years older than Joanna meant twelve or maybe thirteen, which was 2245 or 2246 for Jim, which was—

Fuck. Jim _couldn't_ be talking about Tarsus IV. No wonder he'd flipped out. How in hell had he been certified to be a fucking starship captain? He leaned over and muttered in Jim's ear, "We are not done with this."

"I know," Jim said.

* * *

Hours and hours later, McCoy tucked Joanna into his bunk and left her with a portable communicator only inches away, and returned to Jim's room.

Jim was sitting on his couch, boots off but otherwise fully dressed. "Hey, Bones."

"How are you doing, Jim?"

"Okay," he said, and yawned. "The drugs are still working. Does Joanna know where you are?" he asked, with a half-hearted leer.

McCoy snorted. "I told her I'd be back before she woke up and she laughed at me, told me she wasn't a baby and that I could stay with Uncle Jim as long as I wanted."

Jim started, and laughed. "How old is she again?"

"Too old," he said.

The silence stretched out between them, longer than McCoy liked. Eventually he broke it. "Jim, are we going to talk about this?"

"It's not exactly easy for me," Jim snapped, then relaxed a bit. "Sorry, Bones. I guess I've said some horrible things to you in the last day or so, right?"

"Yes," McCoy said. "But I'm pretty sure I know why."

Jim stood up and started pacing. "Well, I'm sorry anyway. Like, really sorry." He stopped in front of Bones and offered him a half-hearted smile. "It won't happen again."

"You can't promise that, Jim," McCoy said evenly. This was the awful part. "What if we get into another situation where you're reminded of Tarsus IV?"

Jim swallowed, looked down. "That's the first time it's happened in thirteen years, Bones."

McCoy nodded. "If it happens, come to me right away and I'll fix it. Didn't they give you a course of zithroxaline way back when?"

"I don't know. You can probably look it up." Jim started pacing again. "So my mom and the stepdad-du-jour decided they couldn't handle me after I crashed my dad's old Corvette Stingray."

"You crashed a Corvette Stingray? They haven't made those since the 2100s."

"This one was from 1965, Bones."

McCoy blinked. "Ouch." He sat down in Jim's desk chair and briefly mourned the loss of an amazing piece of pre-Federation automotive history.

"Yeah, well. So they sent my brother Sam and me to what was basically farm camp on Tarsus, and it was fun for a while, I guess. Until—well, you know what happened."

"Tell me, Jim."

Jim took a deep breath. "So there was a crop failure, and a famine, and this guy, Kodos, he comes to power, and he decides the way to deal with the famine is to kill half the population. And I was obviously in the half that didn't get killed." He stopped pacing and threw himself on the couch, hands shaking again. "Sam was in the half that did."

McCoy inhaled sharply. "Oh, Jim."

"Yeah. So I fucking survived and my brother didn't, and I think I should get cut a little slack for freaking out when my—when Joanna's on a planet with a famine." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "Jesus, Bones, I've never told anyone that, ever, until you and that amazing girl of yours."

"She is pretty amazing, isn't she?" he murmured. "How did that not end up in the news?"

"Oh, what, that one of George Kirk's sons died on Tarsus and the other survived it? I don't know. Probably the 'fleet paid out a ton of money. I don't really care. Ask Pike; he might know." Jim shrugged.

McCoy blinked a few times. Well, that explained Pike's concern. "Jim, I—"

"Bones, _don't._ It was thirteen years ago. I'm fine now. Please."

"I know," he said. He'd be monitoring Jim's brain over the next few days to make sure. "Can I come sit next to you anyway?"

"Yeah, of course." He patted the seat next to him, and McCoy was over in a heartbeat, pulling Jim into his arms.

Jim took another one of those deep, shuddering breaths and said, "Bones, I'm sorry for everything I've done and everything I haven't done in the last few days. I should have been—"

"Jim," McCoy said. "Don't worry about it. Just—next time, come talk to me, okay?"

"Okay," Jim said. "I love you, you know."

"I know," McCoy said. "Love you, too. You should get some natural sleep."

Jim yawned so wide his jaw cracked. "Hah. Guess so." A moment later, he said, "You're staying, right?"

"Joanna told me to," McCoy reminded him, and they laughed, with just an edge of hysteria.

He buried his face in Jim's shoulder and concentrated on taking long, deep, even breaths.

"Hey," Jim said, rubbing his back. "Joanna's okay, Donna and Fred are okay, I'm okay, we're okay."

"I know," McCoy said, his voice muffled. "It's been a long few days."

"No shit," Jim said gently. "You need sleep probably more than I do, Bones. C'mon. Bed's right over there."

McCoy nodded and loosened his grip slowly. He didn't let go, though. Wasn't going to for a long time.

* * *

Later, McCoy stood beside his daughter and Nurses Chapel and Cathcart on the bridge as Jim welcomed Captain One and her crew. Captain One officially thanked Jim and took over control of the situation. She shook his hand, and went on to shake the hands of his command crew.

Before she got to McCoy, though, Captain One stopped to shake Joanna's hand, and leaned in to say, quietly, "Admiral Pike says hi."

Joanna broke out into a broad grin. "Thank you, Captain One. Please tell him I said hello, in return."

McCoy smiled at the exchange, and was still smiling when Captain One turned to look at him. "And you, Dr. McCoy, Chris wants to know when you're going to make an honest man of Jim."

McCoy's eyebrow shot up to his hairline, but he shook her hand anyway. "Does he, now."

One just smiled, and moved on to greet Spock.

"Good God, does everyone know?" McCoy muttered under her breath.

"Yes," Chapel said. He turned to glare at her. "Worst-kept secret in the 'fleet," she added, unrepentant.

Behind her, Cathcart was nodding. He turned to look at Joanna, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He settled for rolling his eyes so hard it almost hurt.


End file.
